


If You Count The Dog

by elbowsinsidethedoor



Series: The Merge Universe [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, Tissues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 02:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11499903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elbowsinsidethedoor/pseuds/elbowsinsidethedoor
Summary: A short but necessary addition to the Merge Universe.





	If You Count The Dog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dassandre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dassandre/gifts).



> I wrote this at the prompting of Dassandre who was right about Bear!

Harold wiped tears from his eyes watching John carry Bear down the steps from the deck to the yard. The vet hadn’t called with the news, but Harold knew. He knew through the sensors what the lab results were.

It was mid November. Unusual to still be at the house on the Cape. They’d planned to head back to the city the week before but Bear wasn’t well; his back legs seemed weak, his appetite low. They’d postponed the trip, taking him to the local vet. She’d run tests and while they waited to hear, he was getting much weaker.

John had spent the last two nights on the couch or the floor, to be near him. To be there if he showed signs he wanted to go out, to watch over him. Bear stayed in his bed in front of the fire place. They kept a fire burning to keep him warm. 

“It’s better that we’re here than in the city,” Harold said. They were having a light breakfast, neither of them feeling much appetite, when the vet called.

Harold listened politely as she explained that it was a type of lymphoma. She said he might have had it for a while, without symptoms, gently adding that fifteen, for a dog of his size, was quite an advanced age. She offered to come out to the house if needed, if he were in great distress, and told him she had filled a prescription for pain medication that could be picked up at any time.

“That is very kind of you, doctor. I’ll send John in to get it. Thank you so much.”

Now his partner’s eyes were intent on him.

“We knew it wasn’t good, John. She has pain meds at the office for him. She’s offered to come any time, if he’s in distress.” Harold saw his own pain reflected in John’s face.

“I’ll go pick up the medicine. You’ve got to call Shaw.”

“Yes. I know.” Something he was not looking forward to.

“You know what she’s gonna want.”

“Yes.” Harold knew what she’d want. The same thing John wanted. The same thing that had kept them up half the night, arguing. The discussion wasn’t a new one. Shaw had been pressuring him for a long time.

Harold did not want to lose Bear any more than John did, than Shaw did. But he did not feel it was right to make this decision for Bear, any more than he would have made it for his friends.

John left without another word. They were argued out for the time being.

Alone with Bear, Harold left the table to sit by his bed, on the floor.

“What do you want, my handsome one?” he asked him, keeping his voice quiet to soothe any upset Bear might feel from the conflict between his human fathers.

For all the wisdom the machine and its sensors bestowed, the truly unanswerable questions remained. What did death lead to … was there more? Would it deprive Bear of what should come after to keep him here with them? He knew his friends considered such things to be pointless speculation. For Harold, the weight of selecting paths that diverged from nature was real, was heavy.

All he saw in Bear’s expressive brown eyes was acceptance.

“Ms Shaw. Sameen,” he contacted her gently, waiting for a moment he knew she was awake and aware.

“What’s up Harold.”

“It’s Bear. He’s not well. Perhaps you should come now. We don’t have a given time but we’re going to stay here. Not make him travel.” His voice was near breaking.

“I’m on my way, Harold. And you’d better be mixing up that spunk, or whatever the hell it is you do, because you’re not letting my dog die.” She cut off abruptly.

“Straight … and to the point,” Harold said to Bear. He stroked a velvety ear and thought of how loyal, how good a companion the Malinois had been to him. To John. How Bear had brought Shaw into the family in a way that none of its human members had managed.

“Harry.” It was Root, checking in. She was in Paris, on a mission of her own. “I’m worried about Shaw.”

“I know. I’ll look after her as well as I can.”

“Are you sure you’re making the right decision about Bear?”

“No, I’m not sure,” he said, with a little more heat and a few more tears than he intended.

“Then err on her side. You could start the process. Be ready, so it isn’t too late if you change your mind.”

“It may already be too late,” he said. “When are you coming back?”

“You want me home?”

“Yes,” he admitted quietly.

“I’ll be on the next flight out. We’ll get through this, Harry. One way or another.”

He took a deep breath when Root signed off. He was relieved that she was coming. He gazed at Bear, wishing he could speak, tell him what he wanted.

Bear lifted his head and for a moment seemed like his healthy self. Happy. His mouth opened in what looked like a smile, tongue lolling. Harold felt a sob overtake him, as if his dog had spoken.

“All right, my love,” he wept. He slid his finger like a swab along Bear’s inner cheek, collecting his DNA. Then he put the finger into his own mouth, doing the same, with sudden, focused intent. Even as the tears rolled down his face, his attention turned inward, to the transmission of cellular information. He was beginning the process Ms Shaw so inelegantly termed, mixing the spunk; creating the microscopic machines in the laboratory of his own body.

For his human companions, it had taken days to complete the process. He didn’t know if it would be different for Bear. If there was enough time.

“We’ll see, boy. We’ll see what we can do.” He pet him and Bear offered Harold’s hand a nudge with his nose before laying his head back down.

 

***

The injection had been given. Through the afternoon and evening Bear had slept while his human family stood watch around him. Only Root and Harold were still awake in the small hours of the night.

“It’s kind of like a pajama party,” she said, stirring her tea. “The kids asleep while Mom and Dad stay up.”

“I am so grateful you’re here.” Harold took a sip of his tea.

A few hours before, Shaw had dragged a mattress from the guest room to the floor beside Bear’s bed, only to find John on it the minute her back was turned. They sat there a long time, side by side. John had finally succumbed to his weariness and stretched out with a pillow. Shaw resisted for a while but ultimately had made herself comfortable with her head on his chest, her eyes on Bear, and fallen asleep. The two of them together was a sight Harold found unbearably charming. Root had covered them with a blanket before making tea for herself and Harold.

It was near three AM when Harold and Root tucked their feet up on the couch and settled on pillows at either end.

“Close your eyes, Harry. The machine will wake us if we’re needed.”

 

***

 

He woke up to the sweet smell of pancakes browning in butter, the perfume of warmed maple syrup. Daylight. Everyone was up but him … including Bear, he realized, surveying the unoccupied mattress, the empty dog bed. He heard voices, the sounds of cooking.

“He can have the egg, not the pancake. Here, boy.” John admonishing Shaw, the sound of Bear's tread on the hardwood floor.

For a moment Harold shut his eyes again, in communion with the machine, in gratitude.

He didn’t know any more now than he had before, about what significance his choice might have. What effect, if any, on the long term journey of a dog’s soul, or of their human souls, for that matter. He’d done what he had to do, to keep his family whole, to keep them together. That was enough for now.


End file.
